The Laws of Attraction
by Kisses Bitches
Summary: They like to think whatever it is, it's purely psychical. But they know it's more than hormones. one-shot. [evcy/goldunn] [evan/lucy] R


law 1: **belligerent sexual tension**

* * *

Evan sneaks glances across the room and presses a hand to his arousal, trying to repress it because isn't he supposed to like like Patrice? But _God_ does Lucy look _fuckable _in that. Not that he'd ever tell her that though. No, he hates her . . . Right?

Right.

He thinks. God, his hormones are confused. _She_ confuses his hormones, they were fine before her.

He hates her. He hates her. He hates her. But he wants her so, so bad.

He has to get this out of his system. It's almost lunch so he can't handle it the way he likes to. Crap. That means confrontation. He needs to remind himself that she's a terrible person and that she hates him too because they ruined the game for each other.

He doesn't realize that the more tension they build, the closer they get to breaking.

* * *

law 2: **fantasies**

* * *

Lucy trembles under his gaze. She prays to God he can't see the way she shakes and where her fingers are twitching towards.

She hates the way he can break her down and make her squirm with just his eyes. The things he could do by _touching_ her.

She wonders if maybe, just maybe, in all those hidden glances and the occasional stare, he's fucking her with his eyes. It certainly feels like it. But he hates her like she's supposed to hate him.

He's unpopular, he's dating a geek, he's friends with the loser cripple, he almost ruined her relationship.

But God is he hot, and he can sing, and he's so freaking smart which she maybe finds a little sexy, and God has he gotten tall.

And she's not stupid, she knows what comes with height . . .

God, all these dirty, dirty thoughts running around her head are clouding her mind.

* * *

law 3: **relieving tension**

* * *

Evan breathes deeply after the argument. Fuck. It took everything in him _not_ to kiss her. She looks so, so cute when she's mad and there's something mesmerizing about seeing her lose her composure.

Something only he can do to her.

He almost smiles at that but there's a throbbing in him that hurts so good and he needs to let it out before it consumes him and he does something stupid.

"Evan, are you okay? That looked — " he cuts his girlfriend off with his lips. It's desperate and needy and he swirls and explores with his tongue because he freaking needs this.

She tries to keep up and to not intake breath but she's too inexperienced and he knows he should find it cute but he needs someone who knows what they're doing. She runs out of air much too quickly and gently pushes him away.

Lust is clear in his eyes.

He needs this.

"Evan, we're only 15," she mumbles, her face flushed.

"I know, I'm sorry, I'm just . . . Frustrated," he sighs in defeat, realizing he has to walk off all the leftover throbbing.

Fine. He got some of it out, just not enough.

* * *

law 4:** redirected sexual tension**

* * *

Lucy shoves him back. He grunts, swearing sharply.

"What's your problem?" He snaps, standing his ground.

"Hm, let me think — you, you geek," she glares up at him, hands firmly on her hips.

"Are you kidding me? _You're_ the one who got your little boyfriend to get in a fight with me in the 8th grade!" He exclaims.

"Yeah, after you talked him into _dumping me_ for my _best friend!_" She shouts.

"After you _stole_ him from her, what kind of "best friend" does that?" He demands, stepping closer.

"I was _12,_ I was stupid and hormonal and I liked him first, thank you very much!" She roars back, edging closer.

"I didn't ask for your life story!" He bites, glowering down, inches away from her now.

"Whatever," she snaps, shoving past him after a moment of silent eye contact.

The school is used to this kind of thing.

* * *

law 5: **release**

* * *

If she would pass him the note, if he would act on his instincts, the tension is almost there. Two years of tension has almost peaked. Almost.

They're almost there. Almost ready to finally let it out.

It's just a matter of who has less pride.

It all comes pouring out though, in their next argument.

She's shouting and making those maddening hand gestures he can't help but think are cute.

He's defending himself and looks so freaking perfect as he gets frustrated with her.

And no one knows who makes the first move. It's all a blur of movement.

And then, their lips are moving together furiously and — Patrice. Brett.

. . .

Oh, fuck it.

xoxo

Drop off a review,

the favorites be screwed,

the follows can fall in ditches,

kisses bitches ㈍9

- Lucy

xoxo


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